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Puttingaside my resentment,Itried to helpDad. “Whydon’t we go over these notes while we wait?”
"Idon’t need?—"
Ispoke overDad, cutting him off, "JayAmbani, age fifty-two, happily married for fifteen years toPiyaAmbani.Theyhave a fourteen-year-old daughter,Poppy.Ambaniloves nothing more than his daughter, so if you need a safe topic, compliment one ofPoppy’saccomplishments.”
Iread the long list ofPoppy’sachievements.MathOlympiad.Mensa.Graduatedfrom high school at fourteen.Enrollingin my college for the fall semester.SincePoppy’sbirth,Ambanihad championed his daughter to take over the company one day.
Justlike me.
“Ifshe is a math whiz like her father, then she is the perfect person to groom forCEO,”Iconcluded.
“Likesomeone else we know,”Cadensnorted, alluding to me. “Iwonder if she also has a big head.”
Ismirked.Apparently,Ihad more in common with a fourteen-year-old than anyone else in this room.
“JayAmbaniis widely known for being a family man, so always be respectful when addressing his wife.”
Iheld up a photo ofJayandPiya.Theyappeared smitten with one another, just like my parents beforeMompassed away.Correction.Mymother,CaraMaxwell, didn’t pass away; she killed herself.Theweight of guilt sank in heavily at the thought.
Dadsnatched the photo out of my hand.
“Holyshit, that’sPiyaAmbani?”Dadsputtered. “Lookat the rack on her.”
Ipinched the bridge of my nose, imaginingJayAmbani’sfist landing onDad’sjaw.Therewas no wayDadcould pull off this meeting.Hewasn’t used to women exercising modesty. “That’san example of whatnotto say.Theyare rumored to have a strong marriage, so comments like that won’t fly.”
Henryscoffed. “Yeah, right.”
Alleyes landed on my uncle. “Somethingyou want to share?”
“IoverheardJordanspeaking toPiyaon the phone.”
Inarrowed my eyes.Ifthat wasn’t an admission of his involvement with our publicist. “And?”
“Itturns out that virtuousMrs.Ambaniwas having an affair.Sheended it recently and went back to her husband.”
Dad’seyes widened. "What?Thatbitch.Howcan anyone cheat onJayAmbani?”
Irolled my eyes. “Don’tget carried away,Dad.It’sjust gossip.”
“No, it’s not,”Henryretorted. “ShetoldJordanabout rekindling an affair with some man she met at her brother’s wedding.Ilooked up when her brother got married, and it conveniently lines up withPoppyAmbani’sbirth.”
“Whatare you saying?”Dadasked in a stunned voice.
Henryshrugged. “ThatMrs.Ambanihad an affair for years behind her husband’s back, and this,” he pointed at a picture ofPoppy, “isn’tJayAmbani’sreal daughter.”
“PoppyAmbaniis a bastard,”Dadmused.
Iheld up two hands. “Whoa, hold up.Theirpersonal lives are none of our business.Andwe need to be more careful before spreading nasty rumors about a little kid.Let’sdrop it.”
Everyonesimmered down, slightly embarrassed for getting carried away by gossip.Iglimpsed at the incredibly happy couple in the photo.Mrs.Ambani, the devoted wife, gazed at her husband with adoration that couldn’t be faked.Noway was their marriage a sham.
Ishelved the matter away when a petite brunette poked her head inside the waiting area and announced, “Theboard is ready for you.”
ChapterTwo
POPPY
“Whyare they here?”Iasked in a low voice, my irritation rising.
